Frank Brown
The Smiths come together!

CHAPTER ONE

Greta Smith padded barefoot around the polished wood floor of the dance studio, straightening a back here, lilting a chin there, reminding her students to keep their toes pointed, their shoulders back, their chest lifted high as they stretched at the bar. The tang of sweat hung in the over-heated air, and the radiator clanged from time to time. As the half dozen boys and the three-dozen or so girls of Greta's advanced dance class performed their final stretches at the bar, Greta told them to drop to the floor and do a few stretches in the full-split position to finish things off.

The girls, in their tight black leotards, had no trouble sitting in the full-split position. With backs straight, tits lifted high, crotches pressed to the floor, they bent from one side to the other, touching their chins to their knees, reaching out to grasp their pointed toes. The boys, on the other hand, being built differently, were not nearly so flexible. They grunted and sweated as they struggled to imitate the more flexible girls.

Only one boy had no trouble sitting in the full-split position and performing perfect stretches – Greta's golden-haired son, Patrick. Greta had started him stretching early in life. He'd been doing full splits and stretches since infancy.

"Thomas, you're going to have work more on your flexibility," Greta told the least flexible of the boys. "You've been slipping lately. I want you to put in extra time at home."

Greta walked among the teenaged dancers, counting out their stretches as they bent in unison to one side, then to the other. In all her years of teaching ballet and modern dance, in the fifteen years since she'd founded Greta's School of Ballet and Modern Dance, this was by far her best class. And the pride of the class was her own son, Patrick, now six feet tall and good enough to dance professionally. Greta's daughter, Susanne, Patrick's younger sister, was a fine dancer as well, but the competition among the girls was greater than among the few boys and several girls in the class surpassed Susanne in ability.

"Fine," Greta said. "Very good. See you all tomorrow, boys and girls. Class dismissed."

As the dance students left the studio for their respective dressing rooms, Greta couldn't help noticing the way several girls surrounded Patrick, flirting with him and giggling. They all wanted to be his girlfriend, but Patrick had never taken a steady girlfriend. He seemed to prefer being free to take out any girl he wanted to, any time he wanted to. Even Candace Wilson, the prima ballerina and top girl dancer at the school, couldn't get Patrick to commit himself to her. It pleased Greta that Patrick refused to pledge himself to any one girl. She knew that if he did so, she herself would feel jealous, resentful even. He was hers, after all – her son – and she dreaded giving him up.

The girls pressed up against Patrick on all sides, rubbing against him like cats, some of them stroking his back, his ass. They intentionally stepped on his bare feet with theirs. It was a shameless display of female sexual heat, and Greta had to bite her lip to keep from saying something to the sluttish girls.

Leave him alone, she thought. Will you just leave him alone!

Patrick, who was all smiles and red cheeks, appeared to delight in the attention. Much to Greta's dismay, he was, as usual, eating the attention up. Even more disturbing to Greta was the rampant cock-bulge swelling in the boy's tights. She caught herself trying to imagine what her son's cock looked like naked, and she found herself flushing with heat and getting tight and tingly between the thighs.

Patrick had always been prone to getting erections around girls, especially in dance class, and sometimes even up on stage during a performance. These unruly erections both shocked and excited Greta. For years now, she'd been fighting against the desire to finger-fuck her pussy while imagining Patrick naked with a raging hard-on.

"Please girls!" Greta said. "Run along now and get dressed. The snow is coming down outside and the weather's getting worse by the minute. They're forecasting a blizzard. The sooner you all get showered and get home, the better."

As Greta was ushering the dallying girls to their dressing room, Morgan Smith – Greta's husband and the business manager of Greta's School of Ballet and Modern Dance – was viewing them from his locked office, which warn situated between the dance studio and the girls' dressing room. By swiveling in his chair, he could turn from the wall in front of him to the wall behind him. Through the two-way mirrors he had secretly installed in both walls years ago, Morgan could view what was going on in the studio or in the girls' dressing room. By closing sliding doors, which blended perfectly with the wall paneling, he could hide his secret windows whenever he wasn't using them.

Lucky bastard, he thought of his son Patrick. Those nubile young bitches had all but pulled Patrick to the floor on top of their overheated young bodies. The boy had it made. Every fucking girl in the class wanted to lay Patrick, and he was sure the youth took advantage of it – at least he hoped to God the boy took advantage of it.

If he himself had had the opportunity to vent his sexual desires at Patrick's age, he would never have married the first and only girlfriend he'd ever had, Greta. He would have known that a guy didn't have to marry a girl to get into her panties, that there were a lot of unmarried girls out there hot for cock. He'd married Greta because she was the best-looking girl at his college – a Swedish blonde with big tits and an ass curvaceous enough to make a fellow drool all over himself. Greta had been a damned lucky catch – at least, back then. Today, he'd trade her in for a sexually active woman with only half Greta's looks and body.

Ever since she'd started this damned dance school, she'd become sexually colder and colder. The school took all her time, all her thoughts, all her energy. What sexual energy she had left, she channeled into her teaching. If Morgan could get a piece of her ass once a week he was lucky, and then she'd just lie there like a plastic doll, preoccupied with thoughts of the dance school while Morgan fucked her and shot his jism into her cunt. She didn't even are about having orgasms of her own anymore, although Morgan's cock rubbing inside her pussy got her off at least half the time. Often, she'd look surprised when she came, as if she'd just awakened and had discovered a man raping her.

As the last girls filed out of the studio, followed closely by Greta, Morgan closed the panel door over the window in front of him and swiveled around to open the panel door behind him. His stiff prick was in his hand, and he worked his foreskin up and down slowly over the lube-greased head of his prick.

He was damned horny. He could have shot off a dozen times as he'd watched the girls go through their dance steps and stretching exercises. The sight of three-dozen barefoot, long legged girls in tight leotards was enough to stoke up the fire in his loins to one orgasm after another. But he was nearly forty and had to pace himself or end up crawling like a whipped dog, so he'd held off coming. Gone were his teenage days when he could get off five loads a day regularly.

I'll have to get a fan installed, he mused as he jacked his cock, and air vents – so I can smell 'em. The trouble with being locked in this office was that he couldn't smell the girls. He wanted to smell them sweating when they worked out in the studio, then wanted to smell their hot pussies as they peeled off their leotards in the dressing room. He aught to have a fan blowing in the scent of pussy while he watched the girls and jacked off.

Left and right, the girls were peeling off their clothes in the dressing room. They displayed pussy-fur of every color, tits of every size, young asses sexy enough to make a man have a heart attack.

How he longed to crawl in there on his hands and knees and sniff those girl-asses, those hot teen pussies! How he longed to lick between those spongy cuntlips, to suck the pussy-honey from those succulent young cunts! How he longed to stick his cock inside those hot little vixens! He wanted to fuck them. He just wanted to fuck them all!

"Christ, look at 'em!" he muttered. "Jesus balls!"

He'd installed the two-way mirrors five years ago, but every time he looked through them at the girls he still got just as excited as he had the first time. Without these secret mirrors and his daily jack-off sessions, sexual frustration would have driven him crazy long ago. Me often wondered what Greta's reaction would be if she ever found out about his secret voyeurism, about how he watched her precious little dancers and lusted after them. She'd probably have him locked up as a pervert – if she didn't kill him first.

A little blonde stepped up to the mirror and gazed into the reflection of her own eyes. It looked as if she were going to kiss her reflection. Morgan could have kissed her through the glass, but he feared she might see him through the mirror if he got too close. He gazed at the pretty little bitch, longing to stick his tongue between her pink wet lips, to pull her voluptuous young body against his own body, to slip his horny, lust-burning cock up her juicy young pussy and fuck the hell out of her.

"Oh, Jesus Christ!" The lust surged through his cock and suddenly he was shooting cum all over.

As the fuck-itch pulsed through his cock and balls, as he humped at his jerking hand, his jizz splatted against the wall.

"I'm shooting off in you, baby," he whispered. "I'm fucking my jizz up your pussy. I'm creaming you, little bitch. Oh, yes I am!"

As his orgasm subsided, Morgan felt guilty and a little foolish, and he started to close the panel door. At the last moment before the door closed, he glimpsed his own daughter Susanne, her tits bouncing as she wiggled out of the shower room. His eyes lingered over her voluptuous curves for a few moments, then he sealed out the sight of her. He tried to push the image of her naked body out of his mind.

I shouldn't think about her like that, he told himself. She's my own daughter, for Christsake!

For years now, he'd been trying to deny his feelings about her. The truth was, he wanted to fuck her just as he wanted to fuck every other girl in the dance school. Maybe he wanted to fuck her even more.

"Don't think about it," he muttered. "Just don't think about it."

He didn't have time to think anymore about it at that moment, because there was a knock on the office door. In a panic, he zipped up, wiped his cum off the wall with his handkerchief, took a deep breath, and opened the door. Greta stepped inside.

"Why are you forever locking this door?" Greta asked in her Swedish accent.

She'd asked him that a thousand times before, and as usual she didn't wait for his answer – as if she really didn't want to know.

"I'm afraid you'll have to drive some of the girl's home, Morgan. The roads are terrible and some of the girls' parents can't get here to pick them up. The phone in the hall has been ringing with frantic calls. I've had to interrupt my teaching to answer them. Why haven't you been taking the calls in here?"

"I've been busy with the books," Morgan said. "You know I can't be interrupted when I do the books or I get lost in the figures completely."

"Well, now you must get on your coat and boots," Greta said. "The girls need rides."

After Morgan had left, Greta sat in his office, waiting for the remaining students to leave so she could lock up the building and drive home in her own car. With the office door open, she could watch the girls leave their dressing room and walk down the hallway to the outside door. Each time the outside door was opened, snow and frigid air blew in from the darkness outside. Greta shivered, dreading the cold drive home.

She swiveled restlessly in Morgan's desk chair, wondering what he did locked in this small, dimly lit office so much of the time. Why did he love this office so much? She got up and closed the office door and locked it, then sat back down, trying to put herself in Morgan's shoes.

She'd been sitting there a few minutes, starting to get claustrophobic, when she noticed that the grooves of the wall paneling in front of Morgan's desk didn't quite line up. On closer inspection, she discovered why. After a little probing with her fingers, she found herself sliding aside a section of paneling and looking through a window into the dance studio. What in God's name was this?

"Anybody here?" Patrick was shouting in the hallway outside. "Mom? Dad? Anybody? Anybody still here?" He rattled the office door, trying the knob.

Before Greta could pull herself together and answer, she saw Patrick through the window. He was still dressed in his dance clothing.

"Aren't we lucky!" Patrick said, looking around the deserted studio. "Looks like everybody else is gone and we're all alone. I'd better lock the front door."

He stepped out of the studio and Greta heard him pad down the hallway and lock the outside door of the dance school. Meanwhile, two girls walked into the studio, giggling as they pulled off their clothes and dropped them on the polished wood floor. Greta knew the girls couldn't see her, knew she was watching them through a two-way mirror, but she moved away from the window as if to hide herself as the girls looked her way.

When she dared look back through the mirror, the two girls were stark naked and rubbing their pussies. They squeezed their legs together and wiggled their sexy young asses. Despite her shock, Greta felt a twinge in her cunt.

I must be seeing things. Greta thought. Or I must have fallen asleep in Morgan's stuffy little office and I'm dreaming all this.

"I'm back, you sluts." Patrick danced back into the studio, performing a few pirouettes and leaps. He stripped don to his tights alone, then danced some more, his bare feet thudding on the hardwood as he performed a few more leaps and showed off for the girls. He came to a standstill next to the girls and put his arms around them and pulled them against him. He kissed them one at a time, shoving his tongue into their mouths.

The girls, a pony-tailed redhead named Wendy, and a pigtailed brunette named Cynthia, were two of the younger girls in the advanced class. Both girls, though slender, had well-developed tits and nicely rounded, tight asses. They quivered in Patrick's muscular arms and looked ready to faint as Patrick licked out their mouths. When he let them go, they both moaned theatrically and collapsed as their legs folded under them.

As they lay before him on the floor, Patrick stroked their nipples and noses and lips with his bare toes. Cynthia started licking his toes, and he squeezed his cock through his tights.

"That turns me on," Patrick said. "Suck on 'em."

Immediately, Wendy started licking the toes of Patrick's other foot, slobbering her warm spit all over them. Patrick shoved his hand down inside his tights and rubbed his cock as the two cooing girls licked and sucked his toes.

Greta's heart slammed in her chest. Her face pulsed with heat and sweat broke out on her skin. The office felt like a sauna. Hardly aware of what she was doing, she began pulling off her clothes. As she watched her son play with the two naked girls, she stripped herself until she was completely nude.

Then she sat in Morgan's chair with her legs spread, clutching and rubbing and finger-fucking her pussy. Her pussy-juices pooled on the chair seat between her legs. The room filled with the smell of her steaming cunt and of her over-heated female body. She wondered if she'd ever been this excited in ha life – if she had, it hadn't been in many, many years.

"Take off your tights, Patrick," Wendy begged. "Let us see your big cock. Oh, please!"

Smiling, Patrick stepped away from the girls. He turned his back to them, then slowly peeled down his tights. He wore a dance supporter underneath the tights, and he pulled that off, too. Naked, he pulled apart his asscheeks, showing the girls his asshole as he leered at them over his shoulder.

Greta had never seen anything so filthy and shocking in her life. She wouldn't have imagined in a million years that her perfect and sainty young son was capable of such an act – showing his asshole to a pair of panting teenaged girls. As she stared in horror, she leaned closer to the window so she could get a better look. Her fingers plunged in her frothing cunt.

"Show us your prick, Patrick!" Cynthia whined. "Please show us!"

Patrick put his hands on his hips. Slowly, very slowly, he turned around until he was facing the girls. His cock jutted up at an angle, its foreskin almost completely peeled back off its gleaming, wet knob. His prick throbbed with each beat of his heart. The two girls were speechless, and so was Greta.

It was the biggest cock any of them had ever seen in their lives.

"Eleven inches," Patrick said proudly. "And if you don't believe it, you can measure it." He stroked his hard cock with his fingertips, as if it were a pet snake. His balls, which were the tie of eggs, shifted slowly in their hairless sac. The two girls rose to their knees. As Patrick stood over them, his hands on his hips, the girls started playing with his colossal cock. They treated it gingerly, as if it were dangerous, a rattlesnake about to strike. They sniffed his prick and felt it, then began to kiss it and lick it. Wendy peeled Patrick's foreskin back all the way and started to slurp at his prick-head. Immediately, Cynthia started licking, too.

The pink tongues of the girls lapped up and down all eleven inches of Patrick's cock. They licked his balls. They plunged their hands between their legs and started finger-fucking themselves as they licked and kissed Patrick's mammoth fucker.

"Suck on it," Patrick said, thrusting his loins. "Give it a hand – job and suck on it at the same time. Work the skin up and down while you suck the head."

He took his cock away from the girls and beat it back and forth across their flushed faces, listening to them moan and groan and gibber. The cock-hungry girls grabbed his cock back and Wendy went down on his prick-head. Her lips nearly split and her jaw nearly dislocated as she swallowed his cock-knob and two inches of his cock-shaft. She was incapable of swallowing any more cock without choking.

"Suck that big thing!" Patrick groaned. "Jerk it! Play with my balls. Rub my belly."

As Wendy sucked Patrick's prick-knob and worked the foreskin up and down his cock-shaft, Cynthia squeezed his balls and caressed his abdominal muscles. As they pleasured the boy, the girls squeezed their legs together and shimmied their pussylips between their thighs. The fuck juices ran down their legs like warm oil.

Greta's mouth watered for what Wendy was tasting. Saliva ran from the corners of her mouth and dripped on Morgan's desk. Spit ran down her neck and trickled over her voluptuous, voluminous tits. Her pussy itched and burned with such lust that she started to see blurry.

Oh, Patrick! Greta thought. Oh, my darling stud son! Oh Patrick, I want, you! Greta plunged her fingers in her cunt. Pussy-cream dripped from her hand.

"Let me suck it too!" Cynthia snapped at Wendy. "Don't hog it!"

She had to wrestle Patrick's cock away from Wendy before the other girl would give it up. Her mouth slipped over Patrick's spit-wet cockhead, and she sucked vigorously.

"Ohhhh, yeahhh!" Patrick moaned. "Blow that big fucker! Work the skin up and down, suck the head! Ohhh, yeahhhh!"

As Cynthia bobbed her head, as she sucked Patrick's cock-knob and masturbated his cock-shaft, Wendy licked the boy's squirming balls and kissed his rippling belly muscles. Patrick, looking more dazed by the moment, thrust his loins faster and faster, fucking Cynthia's mouth and making her choke.

"Suck that cock! Jerk it, eat it!" Patrick moaned. "Make it come! Make it come, ohhhh!"

His eyes rolled back, his toes curled against the floor, and he trembled. As his cum-load exploded into Cynthia's mouth, she jerked her head back. Cum shot in her face, and splashed on her tits.

"Awwwww!" Patrick moaned, thrusting like a stallion, rubbing his cock between Cynthia's hands. "Yeahhhh!"

The two girls went crazy as Patrick shot his cum. They fought over his cock, trying to aim his spurts in their own mouths. Cum shot in their faces and all over their tits. The white fuck cream shot again and again from Patrick's flexing, shuddering prick, and by the time he'd pumped out his load both girls were drenched. Warm jizz ran down their tits and bellies, dripped from their nipples and noses.

"Patrick! Oh, Patrick!" Greta whispered.

She was on her feet now, one hand braced on the desk as she leaned toward the window the other hand grinding between her legs as she reamed out her pussy. As she watched the last spurts of cum leap from her son's cock and splash on the two cock-crazy girls, the spasms exploded in her cunt and she felt herself melt. She licked at the window glass, as if licking her son's sticky warm cum off the smooth skin of the girls.

"Oh, my darling! Oh, my stud!" Greta moaned, thrusting her loins as she fucked her fingers in her hard-sucking pussy.

Her asscheeks and tits felt swollen and sensitive. The orgasmic pleasure pulsed through her body in wave after wave. She couldn't remember when she'd last experienced so delicious an orgasm.

Patrick's cock softened and flopped down over his balls. It still hung at least eight inches long and still looked as fat as when fully hard.

He pushed the girls away and stepped back, swaying on his feet as if he were going to fall over. Greta had never seen him look so clumsy and ungraceful on the dance floor.

The two girls started licking the youth's cum off each other. They cooed like a pair of hungry babies as they sucked the cum off each other's nipples, as they lapped the sticky cock-cream off each other's face. Soon, they were kissing each other and rubbing their bodies together.

"Make out with each other, lezzies," Patrick said. "Suck each other's pussy." He sat down on the floor and crossed his legs. As he watched the two girls, he massaged his cock.

Wendy and Cynthia rolled together like a pair of playful kittens. They kissed deeply, rubbing their tits and cunts together. Some of Patrick's cum had splashed on the floor, and they rolled it in, getting more and more turned on as they made out with each other.

"Sixty-nine," Patrick said. "Suck each other's pussy. Come on, you sluts!"

The girls stopped kissing long enough to reposition themselves in the sixty-nine position. Cynthia's pigtailed brunette head bobbed between Cynthia's legs. Their tongues slurped, their lips sucked and kissed, and they growled deep in their throats as they ate each other's pussy.

"Oh, yeah!" Patrick said, pounding his fast swelling cock. "That turns me on! Eat pussy, you lesbo sluts!"

Continuing to jerk on his cock, Patrick leaned close over the girls so he could watch them suck each other's pussy. He sniffed their asses. He spread Wendy's asscheeks and licked her asshole. He moved over and did the same to Cynthia. As the two girls growled over each other's throbbing cunt and stuck their tongues inside each other, Patrick moved back and forth between them, licking out their assholes.

The two girls squirmed, grinding against each other, twisting their heads between each other's thighs, licking and gnawing and sucking each other's pussy. Their pink toes wriggled and curled as they became more and more excited. As Patrick licked their assholes, they got wilder and wilder, grinding their sexy asses in his face.

"Ohhhh!" Wendy sighed, her toes clawing the balls of her feet, her fingernails digging into Cynthia's ass.

Tremors passed through her body as she came, and Cynthia slurped loudly, sucking up Wendy's hot cunt-juices. As Wendy spasmed, she continued to gnaw at Cynthia's pussy, and before her orgasm had subsided Cynthia went into spasms, too.

"Uhhhh! Uhhhh!" Cynthia moaned, her petite body jerking as the hot spasms overwhelmed her.

She humped her pussy in Wendy's mouth, feeding Wendy her tart-sweet pussy-cream as the fuck-pleasure pulsed through her again and again. As Cynthia came, Patrick flicked his tongue in and out of her spasming asshole.

Patrick jerked up suddenly, his hand a blur on his giant cock. Bridging himself over the two girls, he started shooting jizz on their squirming bodies.

"Ohhh, yeahhh!" Patrick groaned, his body jerking, streams of white fuck-juice spurting from his cock.

He trembled, trying to hold himself up as he spasmed, but his strength gave out before he was done shooting and he fell on the two girls, shooting the last of his cum in Wendy's ear.

At last, the threesome un-piled.

"Yuk!" Wendy said, cleaning Patrick's cum out of her ear. "You guys can be such animals."

"Look who's talking," Patrick said as Wendy and Cynthia once again licked his cum off each other. "There's more on the floor, cum-lickers."

Patrick smiled as the two girls crouched like two kittens and licked his fuck-cream off the bare wood floor.

From the office adjacent to the studio, from behind the two-way mirror, Greta watched the two naked girls lap up her son's cum from the dance floor. Their bare asses were up in the air and their ass puckers quivered between their buns, moist with Patrick's saliva.

Greta didn't know what shocked her most about all this: Morgan's secret window? The two girls? Patrick? Or herself?

Morgan had a lot of explaining to do – if she ever dared confront him. And she could never again look at those two girls, or Patrick, as if they were innocent, perfect young saints. Now she knew otherwise. As for herself – she could no longer deny her true feelings toward her son, her secret wicked feelings, feelings she'd kept buried for so many years.